


My Fire Was Fate (With You)

by Doodsxd



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Aragorn is a businessman, Aragorn needs to chill the fuck down, BAMF Arwen, BAMF Éowyn (Tolkien), Barista Legolas Greenleaf, Business, Clarivoyant Arwen, Clubbing, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Family Fluff, Faramir is an asshole for a while, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gimli is a good bro, Gut Feeling, Hidden World, Hipsters, Interspecies Relationship(s), Legolas needs to calm down, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Rich Aragorn, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, humans know nothing about other races
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: An arm around his waist, both of them sweating, Legolas could only focus on the man’s body behind him, and he wasn’t always easy like this, but fuck, that man felt right, smelled right, their hips grinding to the beat of the song and he wanted nothing more than for that moment never to end-The elf sighed. “He was my height, bulkier than me, tanned skin, blue eyes, dark hair.”“How old?”“He looked about thirty, maybe a little less.”“So not a twink.” The fucker’s voice sounded amused.“No.” Legolas rolled his eyes. “Not a twink.”Gimli chuckled. “I’ll see what I can find for you. But I can’t help but wonder how good was he that you’re so obsessed in finding a simple-”“Goodbye, Gimli.” He disconnected the call and went down the stairs.Legolas' heartjumped“Let’s talk in your office, Faramir, please.” The man had his arms back, posture easy, voice soft, despite that clearly being a chastising. He had royalty written all over his body.And Legolas wanted a fucking piece of him.Or: Legolas goes clubbing and hooks up with a man, who later he finds out is his boss.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 16
Kudos: 258





	My Fire Was Fate (With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liquidsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/gifts).



> Hi!  
> liquidsky wanted urban fantasy aragorn/legolas and I just.  
> Uh. 
> 
> songs: “Body Talk” Foxes  
>  “Honey” Kehlani (title comes from this one)  
>  “Paper Hearts” Tori Kelly  
>  “More Than Enough” Alina Baraz
> 
> It's my first time writing LOTR, even though I did watch the movies like a thousand time, still had to research a little and made up _a lot_ of surnames so... forgive me?
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**My Fire Was Fate (With You)**

_by doodsxd_

_for liquidsky_

“Are you one hundred percent sure about this, Gimli?” Legolas asked for the thousand time. One of those, he hoped, Gimli would give up on the lie and save him from embarrassing himself horribly. 

“A thousand percent, my stupid pointy-eared friend.” Gimli was losing his patience, Legolas knew. Could see him twirling his long, ridiculous moustache. “This club tests beforehand. Everyone inside is our kind, there’s no mistaking.” 

“But he looked so… _human_.” Legolas sat on his bed and tied his sneakers, phone between his shoulder and ear. 

_An arm around his waist, both of them sweating, Legolas could only focus on the man’s body behind him, and he wasn’t always easy like this, but fuck, that man felt right, smelled right, their hips grinding to the beat of the song and he wanted nothing more than for that moment never to end-_

“Well, he wasn’t.” Gimli said resolutely. “Are you sure he didn’t have any tells?”

“I mean, maybe he was hiding something.” He shrugged, even though the dwarf couldn’t see him. “It was a nightclub. I can never be completely sure.” 

“They don’t allow concealing spells in there, so it must be something physically concealable.” He reminded him. “Did you check his ears?” 

_Kissing in the bathroom, hands on each other’s faces, chests, backs, pulling him closer and closer until they were inside a stall, lips sucking on his like eternity could go by just like this-_

“Tell me how he is again?” Gimli asked and Legolas sighed. 

“I don’t have time for this, my shift is about to start.” He grabbed his apron, his cap, and wrapped his hair in a low bun to hide his ears. He worked in a _human_ cafe, after all. “New girl caught a cold and I need the money from the shift to pay for that _stupid_ lamp-”

“Which you broke throwing a paper straw with your superhuman strength and precision.” The dwarf, reminded him. “Now, seriously.”

The elf sighed. “He was my height, bulkier than me, tanned skin, blue eyes, dark hair.” 

“How old?” 

“He looked about thirty, maybe a little less.” 

“So not a twink.” The fucker’s voice sounded amused. 

“No.” Legolas rolled his eyes. “Not a twink.” 

Gimli chuckled. “I’ll see what I can find for you. But I can’t help but wonder how good was he that you’re so obsessed in finding a simple-”

“Goodbye, Gimli.” He disconnected the call and went down the stairs of his building, saying hi and bye here and there, mostly to the others elves living there. Ever since times got rough and they had to stick together, like it or not. 

He got on his bike and started to pedal, using of his species’ balance to move through the flow of cars.

Legolas arrived at the cafe a little sweaty and two minutes late, which earned him a lecture by his ridiculous manager, who basically thought he was too good for _everything_. 

“And if this happens again, I’ll be sure to talk to Mr. Isildur and you’ll never get another job in this town ever-”

Someone cleared their throat to their side, stopping Faramir from talking any longer. 

“Wanna rephrase that, Faramir?” 

Legolas’ heart _jumped_. 

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

He turned, same as Faramir, who looked sheepish. “Hello, Mr. Isildur, sir-” 

“Let’s talk in your office, Faramir, please.” He had his arms back, posture easy, voice soft, despite that clearly being a chastising. He looked like a prince, grace and elegance in his manners, as if he wouldn’t be capable of being rude if he tried. The man had royalty written all over him

And Legolas wanted a fucking piece of him. 

He swallowed dry as Faramir sent an ugly look his way before moving, presumably to wait for Mr. Isildur at his office like he asked. 

The man’s eyes fell on Legolas, but no recognition showed up there. 

“Sir.” Legolas nodded his head in respect. “I arrived late, sir. Mr. Arnen was simply tell me off for that, as he should.” He tried, because while he wanted Faramir out of his hair, he also _could not lie_ , thank you very much. 

Isildur’s smile warmed just a little. “That’s very noble of you, Mr. Greenleaf, but from what I heard he was doing a little more than that. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again, just as I trust you’ll make sure not to arrive late anymore.” His smile turned a little amused. 

“No sir, I won’t.” Legolas’ heart took permanent residence inside his throat. 

“Good.” The man nodded his leave and turned around, entering Faramir’s office and shutting the door behind him. 

Legolas was on his phone before he could _breathe_. 

“Gimli,” He knew his hands were shaking, fucking hell. “I want you to get anything you can on Isildur.” 

“Legolas, what’s going on?” The dwarf caught on his nerves quickly. “Do I need to go there kick somebody’s ass?” 

_The man had entered the club with an easiness that Legolas had never seen before, and set his eyes on him before he could land a judgement that wasn’t ‘gorgeous’._

_“May I offer you a drink?” He asked, voice calm and collected, echoing through Legolas’_ bones _, despite the loud music around them._

_He sniffed - nothing there that could ge to him, apparently - so he took a sip. The man was smiling, dimples showing on his cheeks, and the elf immediately wanted to take a bite._

_“What’s your name?’ He asked, beard brushing the side of Legolas’ face, giving him shivers._

_“Gimli.” He said, praying his friend would forgive him. “Yours?”_

_“Thorongil.” His eyes never left Legolas, watching him with the soft kind of hunger the elf could not resist. “Want to dance, Gimli?”_

_They went to the center of the room and everyone else disappeared. All Legolas could look was Thorongil, all he could feel was the warmth of his body next to his, moving and guiding his as if he had practiced for that his whole life._

“No, no.” Legolas shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “No. Just get me whatever you can on that name, OK?”

“I’ll call you when I have something.” 

The call disconnected and Legolas got himself into the bathroom to throw some water on his face, trying to calm himself down. 

Now what?

________________________________________________________________________________

He took another sip of the elven ale he bought from the young woman on the first floor. “You mean to tell me he’s a heir?” 

“And what a heir.” Gimli had his laptop open over his legs, sitting on Legolas’ bed. “That cafe you work at is just one of many businesses his family owns. His bank account is on the tenth figure _easily_.” 

He felt a headache coming on. “And he’s a human?”

“Nothing suggests the opposite, no.” The dwarf informed him. “I looked but they seem to have a well-established lineage of pure humans.” 

“I don’t do humans, Gimli.” He was aware of how defeated he sounded. “It’s too much complication.”

“Not to mention your king forbade it.” Gimli reminded him helpfully. “At least humans who are unaware of our world, from what I remember.” 

He sighed. “And he didn’t even recognize me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a good body reader, remember?” He let his hair go from his bun, throwing the long strands to one side. “Nothing.” 

Gimli observed him for a moment. “I’ve never seen you like this.” He declared. “We have been friends for a long time now, and I may not be a good _body reader_ like you, but I know _you_.” He shut his laptop. “You want that guy.”

“Stop being ridiculous.” He _couldn’t_. Wouldn’t. 

It would go away, he was sure. 

“Then you should also know he’s engaged.” Gimli announced. “To Éowyn Eorl, daughter to a millionaire, owner of a chain of stores all around the tri-state area.”

“He’s _engaged?_ ” Legolas screeched. “Since _when_ ? Did he _cheat-?”_

“It was announced two days after the party you met him.” Gimli assuaged him. “But still. He _is_ engaged now.” 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” He rubbed his forehead _hard_ , trying to calm himself. He was merely a stranger, why was he feeling that strongly over him?

Gimli’s hand found his shoulder in a comforting touch. “Häagen-Dazs?”

“Pralines and cream or I’m not letting you back in.” He answered miserably, hand through his hair nervously. 

Gimli just chuckled, heading out to buy the ice cream, leaving Legolas alone with his thoughts. 

__________________________________________________________________________

_The first kiss tasted like honey, sweet,_ sweet _, right in the middle of the dancefloor, Legolas’ hands cupping the man’s face as the man held him close, hands firmly attached to his waist, and for a moment in time he belonged right there, the beat strong around them guiding their hips together, never more than a few millimeters away, never losing each other’s eyes, the world around a blur, its axis undulating his hips right in front of him-_

Legolas woke up late and with a hard-on, which certainly did not help his mood, at all. 

He took a quick shower and left with his hair still wet, still loose. He biked quick enough that no one would be able to see his ears on the street, anyway. 

Getting there - right on the dot, lucky him - he put on his apron and started tying his hair on a bun when he heard a loud crash behind the kitchen. 

He ran there before he had the conscious thought to do so. 

It was Mr. Isildur, screwdriver on his hand, apparently having dropped the pan rack on the floor while trying to screw it back into place. Legolas could have warned him - he already tried and failed, that pan rack had to be replaced, but Faramir was too much of a cheap ass to allow the purchase. 

“Let me help.” He said, lowering himself to get the pans from the floor, placing them on the sink to be re-washed and boiled. He tried as much as he could to ignore the man in the room with him, even though was acutely aware of his presence there. 

“You don’t seem surprised that it fell.” The man said, leaning his hip on the kitchen isle. “How long has this been going on?”

“About eight months.” Legolas admitted, back to him as he washed the pans, scrubbing them one by one. “I tried to fix it, too.” 

Isildur hummed, walking closer to him. Legolas couldn’t see it, but he could _feel_ the warmth radiating from his body getting warmer and warmer with the proximity. 

He stopped with his hip now on the counter Legolas was using, looking at him. He was not smiling, but there was the same intensity from that day on the club, as if he could see into the elf’s soul. 

His hand reached out. Legolas held his breath, a monster growling inside his stomach, _longing, desire,_ _please_ , roaring for a man he could never have. 

Isildur’s calloused fingers touched the skin right on top of Legolas’ ears and his eyes widened. He had forgotten to tie his hair, which currently sat _behind_ his pointy ears, clearly displaying his lack of humanity to a _human_. Which. 

He was so dead. 

But the man’s fingers held a lock of his hair and pulled it over his ear, effectively hiding it. Legolas shivered, breath hitching loudly, top of his cheeks turning red in embarrassment. 

“King Elrond wouldn’t be happy to know your ears were showing.” His voice was low, _low_ , a hook pulling Legolas by the navel. “Lucky for you, I’m no snitch.” 

And, just like that, he left the room, leaving Legolas to catch his breath like he had run ten miles, bracing himself on the counter for support. 

What had just happened there?

____________________________________________________________________________

“And he distinctly talked about King Elrond Peredhel?” Took asked him, legs dangling from Legolas’ kitchen chair. 

“Yes.” He focused on making coffee, on stirring the melted chocolate on the stove. He needed to do _something_ , and junk food seemed like a good call right then. 

“So he knows about our world.” Frodo said from where he sat on the floor, finishing a strange game with Sam and Merry. 

“Apparently.” He agreed, taking the popcorn from the microwave. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” The hobbit asked, confused. “You don’t have to hide who you are. It’s not forbidden.”

“He’s _engaged_ , Frodo.” Legolas reminded him, trying to keep his nerves under control. “Not to mention he’s _human_ and I have _no idea_ how he knows about us.”

“He could be a hunter.” Merry pointed out. 

“He could also be a _friend_.” Frodo, always the sweet and innocent, replied. “You should ask the King.”

“He’d grill me for answers I cannot give.” Legolas let himself fall to the chair next to Took, biting his lip. “I’d be exiled.”

“You can always come live with us.” Frodo was smiling at him as his friends chuckled. 

“Yeah, have him complaining of his back aching from hunching over so much.” Sam put another piece of the game on the floor and the two other groaned. “I win.” 

“You _cheat,_ it’s what you mean.” Merry complained, turning his full attention to Legolas, sitting on his legs. “What do you want to do?” 

“Hell if I know.” He sighed. 

“Well, for _now_ ,” Took spoke up. “I think you should stop thinking about the pretty human and go back to stirring that melted chocolate, because it smells like something’s burning.”

With wide eyes he jumped from the chair, stirring the chocolate furiously as the hobbits laughed at him. 

“I hate all of you.” He hissed, opening a can of heavy cream to add to the chocolate. 

“No you don’t.” Frodo answered, and, yeah. He didn’t. 

But he should. 

________________________________________________________________________________

By Monday Faramir was a bundle of nerves, ordering them to scrub everything and look perfect afterwards, not a hair out of place. 

He didn’t understand why until he saw the woman - a princess in her own right - walking into the cafe, followed closely by Mr. Isildur. 

“This is my fiancee, Éowyn Eorl.” He introduced the staff. “This is Faramir, the manager, Legolas and Éomer.” 

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” They echoed, like puppets. 

She just nodded her head respectfully and allowed Mr. Isildur to show her a table, asking for Faramir to bring them the best coffee and the piece of the best pie. 

Faramir, obviously, delegated the task to Legolas, who took a deep, _deep_ breath before heading there with his tray. 

“Pecan and lime pie and a white flat coffee.” He announced, serving them. 

“Thank you, Mr. Greenleaf.” Mr. Isildur said as he saw the food. 

“Those look good.” Miss Eorl complimented, looking at the pie. “Your favorites?” She asked him with a small smile. 

Legolas paused, considered lying. “I like the praliné better, ma'am.” He admitted. “It’s perfect with a white flat, as well.” 

“Then, if it’s not too much work, I’d rather get a taste of the praliné.” Her smile had a something _something_ that Legolas couldn’t put his finger on. “And so will Aragorn.” She got his fork from his hand before he could take a piece. 

_“You taste like almonds,” The man breathed against his lips, pressing him against the stall of the bathroom, need written all over his face as he licked into Legolas’ mouth, jaw, neck, fingers threading through his hair as if it was made of gold, precious and treasured, but on the way of his lips regardless._

_Legolas chuckled, moaning when warm lips met just the right spot, where his neck met his shoulder. His knees failed him, but strong hands on his waist made sure he was kept upright. “Is that a good thing?”_

_“It’s my favorite flavor,” Thorongil pressed his thigh between Legolas’, pressing on his erection._

_It tore a moan from the depths of his chest and he threw his head back with a dull_ thump _against the tiles, giving Thorongil the perfect opportunity to latch his mouth on the column of the elf’s throat, sucking a mark that would stay there for a week after, as if he was marking him as his and only his-_

“If I may suggest, Mr. Isildur would probably enjoy the frangipane a little more than the praliné.” He spoke absentmindedly as he took the dishes with the pie back to his tray. “It has more almonds.” 

He caught himself a little too late. He shouldn’t, by all accounts, know that Mr. Isildur, _Thorongil_ , had a preference for almonds. 

The man avoided his eyes, Legolas blushed, but Miss Eorl had a smirk on her lips. 

“Great idea.” She said, simply. “So attentive. I bet you’re the best worker here.” 

“I do what I can, ma'am.” 

“Éowyn.” She corrected him. 

Legolas looked from her to Mr. Isildur, who still wasn’t looking his way, then back to her. “Éowyn.” He repeated. It tasted sweet on his tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

Behind closed doors, Legolas took a deep breath, eyes shut. He was trembling and wasn’t sure why. 

“I heard a lot about you.” The voice startled him. 

“Miss- Éowyn.” He caught himself in the last second. “Ma'am. You scared me.” 

She had an amused smile on. “Aragorn grew up with Arwen, daughter to King Elrond.” The woman explained, looking at him. “And I was friends with Celeborn even before that. It’s why he knows, and why it’s alright for me to know.” She cocked her head. "How he got into that club in the first place, too." 

He nodded, heart still beating furiously. “Princess Arwen is very kind.” 

“And clairvoyant, too.” She added, cocking her head. “And one hundred percent unable to lie. Apparently, it’s something in your blood.” She let her finger through the icing of the praliné pie he cut for her, bringing it to her lips. “You should talk to her.” 

“I don’t think-” Legolas started to protest, but she shushed him. 

“As much as I love Aragorn dearly, he can be an idiot, sometimes.” Éowyn said, already heading to the door. “ _Talk_ to her. And bring me an extra slice of that pie along with that one, that’s _good_.” 

Legolas _did_ get her the extra slice of pie, and spent the whole time unable to know what to make of that exchange. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“She really said that?” Gimli asked, his queen taking down two of Took’s pieces. 

“Yes.” He watched, warming his hands with a mug of coffee, taking a sip. 

“You should go see her, then.” Frodo declared. Like it was simple. 

“It’s not that easy to get an audience with the princess.” Legolas messed with the hobbit's hair. 

Frodo scrunched his nose and tried to put it back, but he didn’t seem all that bothered by it. “I know that.”

“I may have a way.” Sam looked up from the letter he had been writing. “I know where she spends her afternoons this time of year.” 

He couldn’t help it. He strode to the little creature, crouching in front of him. 

“Start speaking, Samwise.” 

__________________________________________________________________________

Arwen was at the garden exactly where Sam said she usually hung out on the afternoons at spring and summer, sitting on an empty park bench, staring at the sunshine and the breeze flowing through the trees.

Legolas made his way nervously to her, a cup of her favorite - vanilla matcha ice tea - in his hands, hoping it would be enough. 

She had her eyes closed and a smile upon her lips when he finally reached her. 

“I have been waiting for you, Legolas Greenleaf.” Her eyes, impossibly violet, opened, and she reached out for the cup in his hands. 

He handed it to her as she scooted over, offering him the seat beside her. 

“So.”

“So.” She smirked, taking a sip of her tea. “Why did you came here to ask me something you already know the answer to?” 

Legolas’ teeth worried his lower lip. “I… I suppose I need to hear it, your highness.” 

The princess’ smile was blinding. “No you don’t.” She shut her eyes again, enjoying the breeze on her face. “Not from me, anyway.” 

He took a deep breath. Nervous, _nervous_ , but a little more at peace. 

The elf stood up to leave, stopped by her voice. 

“Tell Aragorn he owes me tea!” She asked, and he nodded, heart thrumming at his fingertips. 

There was no delaying it, then. 

He’d have to talk to him.

He just wasn’t sure how to start. 

__________________________________________________________________________

He received the news of Isildur’s and Eorl’s engagement breakup, a link on his phone, sent by Gimli. 

“We part as friends,” Éowyn barely looked affected by it all in front of the cameras on the YouTube video. “And business stays as usual. We don’t need a marriage to know that staying in business with the Isildur family is a good deal.”

“Is there somebody else?” A reporter asked, voice a little dulled by the crowd. 

“Yes, Aragorn is in love with somebody else. He tried to keep his commitment to me due to his honour, but I would not stand in the way of his happiness, just as much as he wouldn’t stand in the way of mine.” 

“Aren’t you angry?” Another reporter demanded. “Jealous?” 

“Oh, not at all. Aragorn and I are good friends.” Her smile was genuine. “And, honestly, I can’t blame him. He has _such_ good taste.”

The crowd exploded. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Faramir caught him drinking his second cup of coffee during his shift, and physically took it away from him. 

“Hey, I was drinking that!” Legolas watched with horror as the man threw his coffee down the sink. “What the hell?!” 

“The last thing you need is to be more anxious for this.” Faramir looked at him, really _looked_. 

Then he proceeded to take off Legolas’ cap, untying his hair and pushing the white strands behind his ear, showing off the pointy ends. 

He screeched in terror. “What the hell, man?”

“My brother is Aragorn’s business partner, and we’ve known Arwen since we were kids.” The man declared, taking off Legolas’ apron as well, right before fixing his shirt. “And I’ve been in love with Éowyn since I can remember being alive. You did me a favor.” Faramir put his hands on the elf’s shoulders. “Now I’m helping you. He’s in my office. I made up some papers he had to sign.” 

Surreal. The whole thing was simply _surreal_. 

“ _Go.”_ Faramir ushered him forward

Legolas went. 

He knocked on the door, hearing the noise from the inside. 

“I’m almost done signing, Faramir, come on-” He stopped talking when he saw Legolas. 

Honestly, he lost his ability to breathe every time the man’s eyes met his. Like his body refused to take anything that wasn’t _him_ in. 

“May I come in?” He asked, trying for politeness. 

Aragorn nodded his head, offering him the seat across from his. “Please, Mr. Greenleaf.” 

“Legolas.” He corrected sweetly, biting his lower lip as he sat down. 

“Legolas.” Aragorn pronounced every syllable slowly, as if tasting him through his name. The elf felt goosebumps all over his arms. “What brings you here? I hope you’re not thinking of quitting, because we don’t have-”

“You know why I’m here.” Legolas interrupted, shifting in his seat. Eyes firmly forward. 

Aragorn faltered again. Sighed. “I suppose I do.” He leaned back on his chair, posture loosening. “ _Gimli_.” 

“A friend’s name.” He shrugged. “ _Thorongil_.”

“A childhood nickname.” He answered with a small smile. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Legolas asked, hoping he didn’t sound too petulant. 

Aragorn looked down, regretful. “I had already promised myself to Éowyn before. She told me it was on preliminary basis, but I did not want to break my promise to her.” 

Legolas analized the man’s posture, the shift of his eyes. “It’s not just that.” 

“No.” He agreed. 

“You know elves mate for life.” 

“Yes.”

“And didn’t want the commitment?” He knew he sounded resentful, there was no going around it. 

“Didn’t want you to die with me.” His eyes finally met Legolas’ again. “Arwen told me that I was going to meet the love of my life that night, but even if she hadn’t, I’d have known it was you.” His body moved forward. “But I know elves, once partnered, die when their partner die, and I just-”

“Wanted to make a decision for me.”

Silence reigned for a few moments. 

“I suppose I did.” Aragorn put his fingers through his hair, uncertain. “Look-”

“An elf _knows_ when they have met the one. It’s a-” He struggled with his words. “A sense of desperation, a _need_ , a _hunger_ like nothing else.” Legolas put his hand on his chest. “And you’d deprive me of it in fear of something as meek as _death_?” 

“You could live for centuries!” 

“I _have_!” Legolas stood up. “But if you’re gone, however it is, by option or by death’s hand, then… I have nothing to live for.” He looked down, for the first time a little ashamed of his species, of the inherent devotion and attachment natural to them. 

“I just-” Aragorn started on his bullshit again, but Legolas stopped him. 

“No.” He shook his head. “You clearly have a decision to make.” He turned, heading to the door. “Find me when you know your answer.” 

“How am I supposed to find you?” Aragorn asked, and Legolas chuckled bitterly. 

“You’ll know.” 

He left, left Faramir asking for him, left the cafe, left everything. 

And, by leaving Aragorn, he also left his soul behind with him. 

_________________________________________________________________________

It was Tuesday, and it was raining, the two things Legolas hated the most in the whole world. 

Not that he liked much at this point.

He had been inside his apartment for two days, ignoring calls and living off of ice cream. Only that day he decided to take a shower, put some pajamas, ready to tuck himself in watching some American Housewife - that woman got him in a soul level, what could he say - when somebody knocked. 

Which was strange, because people had to ring him in before coming inside. 

He walked to the door and opened it, almost running into Aragorn. 

He looked wet, tired, and glorious. 

“I tried, I swear I tried,” He started speaking before anything. “To be away from you, you’ll see it’s not worth it to die just to be with me, but I can’t,” His hands gripped Legolas’ waist, pulling him close, forehead to his, breathing him in. “I _can’t_ . I _need you_.”

Legolas nuzzled his face back, hands resting on the man’s shoulders. “You came to a decision, then?” He asked, just because he needed to hear it. He needed the words. 

“I’m yours.” Aragorn’s eyes were clear with truth and stormy with desire, hands gripping the elf’s waist harder. 

Legolas pulled him in and shut the door. 

Clothes were shed around the whole apartment in a trail to Legolas’ room. He was lifted from the floor a couple of times on the way, marveling on how strong the human could be, holding him up while marking his neck, his chest, everything else he could get his mouth on. 

Then he had his back to his sheets, kissing and kissing and _kissing_ that stupid, wonderful man, feeling his heartbeat against Legolas’ own as he slid into his body, to leave his mark where no one else would ever reach, his through and through for eternity. 

“ _Nín fae,_ ” Legolas whispered, moans peppering his every sound, pleasure on his every movement. 

“ _Nín hûn,”_ Aragorn continued, tracing the sacred patterns inside him while Legolas traced them with his fingers on the man’s back. 

_“Vín cuil.”_ They both breathed in relief and pleasure as orgasm took them at the same time, due to the ritual performed between them. 

“No more lies.” Legolas asked, caressing Aragorn’s chest, fingers sliding through his chest hair. 

“No more hiding.” Aragorn added with a smile, and Legolas would also have a lot to sacrifice. Aragorn was famous. 

It was a thoughtless decision, though. 

“Deal.” 

They sealed it with a kiss and fell asleep right away, feeling more complete and content than he had in two thousand, nine hundred and thirty one years. 

____________________________________________________________________

They both woke up startled. 

“Not a twink, then.” Gimli stood by the door of Legolas’ bed, a smug smirk on his lips. “He makes _you_ look like a twink, blondie.” 

Legolas rolled his eyes and threw his pillow on Gimli, who was already walking back to the kitchen, laughing. 

“I’m making you coffee, stop complaining!” He yelled from there as Legolas looked sheepishly to Aragorn, who was smiling softly at him. 

“So _that’s_ Gimli.” He pecked Legolas’ lips. 

“That’s him.” He admitted, licking his lips. “Are you mad?” 

“Mad?” Aragorn chuckled. “I’m wondering if he’d be your best man.” 

Legolas’ heart fluttered awake and he straddled him, holding himself on his broad chest. “Are you serious?” 

“I see no need to wait.” He gathered Legolas’ hands and kissed them, eyes alight. “We were born for each other. I know that in my soul like I have never known anything else.” 

“Are you two going to come here? I brought bagels!” Gimli called out loudly, something hitting the floor when he did. 

“I heard bagels?” Merry’s voice came as the door opened and shut behind the group of hobbits that was for _certain_ all over his kitchen at this point. 

“I was going to lock the door and reward those beautiful, sweet words with some celebratory sex.” Legolas whispered against Aragorn’s skin, making him chuckle. 

“Rain check?” The man asked, standing up and offering his hand to Legolas. “I’d like to meet your friends. And we have time.” He pulled the elf close, touching his forehead with his own. “The rest of our lives, at least. _Nín fae_ ,” He breathed against his temple, sweet and tender as nothing else. 

Legolas had known it from the start, but he was glad to have it solidified by those words. 

He smiled, kissing the man who would be his fate, his forever. 

“Deal.” 

"You still taste like almonds," Aragorn said, kissing him again and again. 

Legolas laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation from: http://www.ambar-eldaron.com/english/downloads/sindarin-english.pdf
> 
> Nín fae: My soul  
> Nín hûn: My heart  
> Vín Cuil: Our life
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> See yall next time ;)


End file.
